


The Youngest and The Most Stupid

by a_belladonna



Category: Astérix le Gaulois | Asterix the Gaul & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Self Confidence Issues, Semi-Public Sex, fantasies, period-typical attitudes to homosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_belladonna/pseuds/a_belladonna
Summary: A bit more background on my two OCs, this time from Quintus's PoV.FollowsFirst of the Season(gen) andMake Love Not War(explicit).
Relationships: Roman OC/Roman OC
Kudos: 4
Collections: Season of Kink





	The Youngest and The Most Stupid

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2020 Season of Kink, using the prompt "Anal play".

Quintus looked at the sleeping Decimus. It was strictly speaking a little too dark in the tent to really see him, but that didn't matter. He'd seen him asleep so often that he'd committed Decimus's face to memory.  
The way Decimus was curled in on himself. The way he looked a little worried, even asleep. Even when his features were otherwise relaxed, he still looked a little like he expected a blow or a harsh comment in his direction.  
Quintus could easily imagine Decimus as a child lying curled up in a corner of the cramped room in the _insula_ where he'd grown up. Mostly because that mirrored his own childhood. It was amazing, he'd often wondered, how they could grow up so alike, yet never meet until they both joined the army. But Rome was a giant city and poor people weren't confined to one particular area of the city.

The similarity between their upbringings also ended just about there, at their sleeping arrangements. Quintus had grown up as one of the middle children in his family. Two of his siblings had resembled his mother, another his father. He'd resembled neither, but his father had nevertheless still recognized him as his child.  
It was different with Decimus. Quintus still remembered how once, during their time as recruits, he'd referred to himself as "the youngest and the most stupid" when describing his place in the family.  
At first Quintus had wondered. Decimus didn't seem stupid to him, especially not compared to many of their comrades in the army.  
But he seemed to believe so himself and it had been picked up by a centurion who gleefully punished him for his forgetfulness. A forgetfulness, Quintus quickly realized, that only manifested itself whenever that centurion was around.  
Finally, one day, he managed to get the full story out of Decimus. He was forgetful, yes. But he simply tended to get lost in thoughts.  
Whenever he'd told his parents or brothers about the figures he'd seen in the clouds or in the patches of mould on the walls or the stories he'd imagined from seeing a foreigner in the streets, they'd reacted by mocking him or beating him, telling him how useless that was and how surely he wasn't quite right in the head.  
"I'm also really bad with numbers and calculations," he'd added. "Not like my brothers and parents."  
That may be, Quintus had thought, but on the other hand Decimus had taught himself to read and write. He had also picked up a decent grasp of Greek simply from talking to a Greek merchant who lived in the same street as he did.  
When Quintus had learned that the only letters from home Decimus received were absolutely bare-bones, letting him know the family was still alive, he'd let slip in his own letters home that it was so cold up in Armorica that he needed more socks.  
Decimus would never live it down if he knew the real reason why Quintus's mother always sent so many socks, but he gladly accepted the "spare" socks Quintus could offer him.

Whatever had happened between them on That Day, the potion had only played one part, Quintus thought. The way Decimus had given himself to him had seemed to not just be an effect of the druid's brew.  
He'd obviously not been inexperienced, but at the same time he'd seemed like he wasn't overly used to tenderness.  
Quintus shifted a bit on his mattress and slipped a hand down below the waistband of his underwear. He'd had these thoughts before, but after That Day he felt they were both more and less illicit to give into. Now he actually knew what it felt like to fuck Decimus.  
He closed his eyes and let the story unfold.

_They were in a bed somewhere. The exact location was less important, only it was in a warmer, more comfortable climate than Armorica, and it was a real bed, not a straw mattress, in a real house, not a tent. They were kissing, slowly, languidly, deeply. One of his hands was caressing Decimus's jaw and neck while their naked bodies were flush against each other. Raising himself up a bit he began kissing his way down Decimus's cheeks, jaw, neck.  
Pausing for a moment over the pulse in the neck, licking that particular bit a bit more. Kissing and nibbling his way down across Decimus's chest, his taut stomach, towards his crotch. He could feel the muscles shift underneath the skin and hear how Decimus's breathing gradually grew more and more laboured.  
Reaching the cock he took it in his mouth, greedily sucking it, despite the feeble protests from Decimus that he really didn't have to.  
While still sucking it he let his hand travel further down, first gently cupping the balls, then gently trailing his fingertips to the area behind them.  
By now Decimus would be squirming, even though the best was yet to come._

Quintus shifted a bit, quietly, to better grasp his own cock which was growing harder.

_Applying more pressure he massaged the area while Decimus's moans were growing louder. Letting go of the cock Quintus applied some oil to his fingers and carefully made his way further down and with feather-light touches began teasing Decimus's hole. Gently, carefully, circling it, not in any hurry whatsoever. His well-oiled fingers pressed and rubbed, sensing how he was silently begging to be penetrated.  
Decimus would squirm and shift, moan and gasp, especially when Quintus would finally slip in a finger. Pressing kisses to Decimus's inner thighs and abdomen, Quintus looked up at his face, catching his gaze.  
"Feels good, doesn't it?" he asked.  
Decimus would nod, his face flushed. Biting his lip he'd suppress a moan when Quintus carefully bent his finger inside him and found the spot he was looking for.  
"Oh, my..." Decimus would groan, his hips jerking a bit on their own, his head falling back in the pillows.  
Quintus set to concentrate his efforts on massaging the spot inside of Decimus, feeling how his thighs were tensing and how he was babbling and moaning incoherently at each movement.  
Taking the cock in his mouth, he then also began applying pressure to the area from the outside using his thumb.  
Decimus would be close now, completely lost in pleasure, his hands fisting the sheets. And finally, finally he'd come, cursing and moaning and sobbing.  
Quintus would let go of the softening cock and withdraw his fingers. Sitting up he'd look down and take in the image of Decimus lying there, looking spent and happy, his chest still heaving as he tried to catch his breath.  
"But what about you?" Decimus would ask. "Why didn't you just fuck me?"  
"Because," Quintus would reply, shifting a bit so he was straddling Decimus's hips. "Because I wanted it to be all about you."_

On his mattress Quintus shifted once again, burying his face in the pillow and trying to be as quiet as possible.

_Decimus would pull him down for a kiss and he'd eagerly return it. While they kissed, Decimus's hands would make their way towards Quintus's hips and cock and he'd moan once Decimus began stroking him.  
In the end he'd come all over Decimus's chest, clutching the covers and looking down at Decimus's face, their eyes meeting._

In the cool tent, on his mattress, Quintus bit his lip and tried to catch as much of his come in his hand as possible when he came. There was an unspoken agreement that you tried to get off as quietly as possible, although he'd lost count of the times he'd heard a muffled moan or the telltale sound of skin against skin from one of the others' mattresses.  
He wiped his hand on his underwear. Good thing they were doing laundry tomorrow.  
Settling more comfortably under his blanket he could feel the blissful relaxation spread. It was stupid and dangerous to give into these fantasies, yet it felt impossible not to.  
If they survived their time in the army they were expected to marry women and produce some children. It was better if he forgot about those thoughts, the sooner the better.  
Other freeborn men were completely out of bounds – if one of them had been a foreigner or a slave their future prospects would ironically have looked better. But he didn't want a slave boy or a long-haired barbarian. He wanted Decimus, forgetful, occasionally clumsy, at times weirdly innocent, Decimus, he thought as he finally drifted off to sleep.


End file.
